Stewart Binns - Anarchy

It was an elaborate but clever exchange. It spelled disaster for our cause, but it was a dark cloud with a silver lining: we had assumed Robert had been killed, but this meant he was alive. Maud and I discussed Mathilde’s offer and brought Miles into our confidence.

Miles, ever loyal, gave a response typical of a faithful supporter.

‘Do not accept, ma’am. Stephen’s incarceration means you are within touching distance of the throne. If you let him go, the throne recedes into the far distance, and will remain beyond your grasp. Robert knows that; he would not want you to give up the throne on his behalf.’

Maud turned to me.

‘Hal?’

‘I agree with Miles. Mathilde can’t execute Robert for two reasons. Firstly, he is universally admired. But secondly, and more importantly, she would be giving you the ideal premise for ordering the execution of her husband. Robert will bear imprisonment on your behalf.’

‘But they will torture him.’

‘No, and for the same reasons.’

Miles then introduced an argument that had been made before.

‘You could of course grasp the initiative, and do away with Stephen first. Robert has made the point already. The throne would be yours. You would be the only possible successor.’

‘But Stephen has a son–’

‘Not old enough. And his blood is not close enough.’

‘It would be a death sentence for Robert.’

‘It would be of course. But winning a civil war is not without pain and sacrifice; Robert knows that.’

‘I need time to think. Let us discuss this tomorrow.’

It was a difficult night for both of us. On the one hand, we both knew that relinquishing Stephen would make it unlikely that Maud would ever be Queen. On the other hand, Robert was not only Maud’s kin, but also a loyal supporter and a close friend.

We lay in bed together, wide awake until late into the night. I was as desperate as Maud was for her to be crowned, but there had to be a limit to ambition.

Maud placed her hand around the Talisman.

‘You brought this amulet to me. Isn’t it supposed to tell me what to do?’

‘No, you know that’s not its purpose. It doesn’t bestow wisdom; it merely reminds us of the value of wisdom.’

‘Well, I understand the value of wisdom, but I’m lacking it at the moment. What do you think, Hal? What would your grandfather, the mighty Hereward, have done?’

‘I wish I knew. He was certainly prepared to lay down his life in support of Edgar the Atheling, to thwart your grandfather. But this is different: you would be making a sacrifice of someone else’s life for your own benefit.’

‘So it would be noble of someone to lay down his life for me; but it would be ignoble of me to ask it of another.’

‘Well put, my darling. I thought you said you lacked wisdom?’

‘It’s your Talisman; it’s very clever. I will send the courier back to Mathilde in the morning, agreeing to the exchange.’

I loved Maud so much; she was brave and strong, but she was also a woman of great integrity. England would have been a better place with her as Queen – but not at any price.

We travelled to Bristol for the exchange. Stephen and Maud spoke few words before he was released. Some mutual respect had been established – much more than had existed before – but both knew that their conflicting ambitions could never be reconciled.

The complicated exchange of prisoners was completed by the end of October 1141, and the civil war returned to a stalemate.

Stephen was anointed as King of England once more in an elaborate ceremony at Canterbury on Christmas Day – amidst, it was said, great rejoicing – but by then, we had developed a new strategy.

When Earl Robert had returned to us, he roundly condemned us for a serious error of judgement. Of course we should have sacrificed him! He would not have executed Stephen; he would have let him escape, and then arranged for him to meet a grisly end somewhere in the wildwood. Either way, we were wrong to have given him up. Nevertheless, Robert was happy to see his home and family again and to resume our cause – as we were to see him.

We immediately began to plan Maud’s new strategy. She was the main instigator of it, and it was both simple and clever. She acknowledged that Westminster and the earldoms of the south-east would be beyond her control for as long as Stephen lived. Therefore, regardless of the legitimacy of his claim, she conceded – at least, in private to us – that he was, de facto, King of England. However, Geoffrey held Blois in his own name and also held Normandy – de facto, like Stephen’s hold on Westminster. Moreover, Ranulf held sway over most of the north-west, and King David controlled the northern borders as well as his own Scottish domain. Significantly, our own base of power was extensive: from Devon and Cornwall into Wales; northwards to meet Ranulf’s lands at Chester; and west as far as Oxford and Wallingford, less than fifty miles from London.

Although Stephen held a domain of great wealth and power, our sphere of influence was at least as great, if not more so. Our plan was to hold the south-west, a domain not unlike the ancient Kingdom of Wessex, which Maud would rule as her own.

And so it came to pass. We built bigger and stronger fortresses, raised taxes, issued coinage and created a system of government like any other. The disappointments of 1141 began to recede, and by the summer of 1142 Maud began to relish the role of monarch in her own western domain.

But there was also a longer-term goal. Our son, Henry Plantagenet, would reach his majority in March 1151 – less than nine years away. Our kingdom in the west would be the foundation stone of an empire we still hoped he would inherit.

We soon established a safe route from Argentan – via Caen to Wareham in Dorset, and then on to Bristol – so that our boys could make regular trips to England. As they got older, we hoped these visits would become longer and that eventually England would become their home. Young Geoffrey was made Count of Nantes by his father, and little William was named Count of Poitou, but their elder brother’s potential inheritance was still the glittering prize and the focus of our burning ambition.

In an attempt to signal our resolve to Stephen, we moved our seat of government to Oxford in August of 1142.

It was a bold move and it tempted fate.

Maud liked Oxford. It was a compact burgh and she felt comfortable walking its streets and talking to its people. Their local English dialect was a little difficult to follow, but it had a lilting harmony to it. Most importantly, its castle was formidable and she felt safe there.

Unfortunately, in September 1142, Stephen’s spies discovered our secret route via Wareham. In a lightning attack, he overran the garrison and destroyed the town. As soon as he realized that young Henry had been visiting England, he raised a large force of mercenaries and marched on Oxford. As usual, he moved quickly and effectively and soon had the burgh surrounded. He took his men across the Isis and stormed into the town. He showed no mercy. Within minutes, every building was ablaze. People ran for safety and many tried to swim across the river, both east and west. We could only watch from the castle’s tall tower as Stephen made the poor people of Oxford feel his wrath.

We were trapped.

Earl Robert and Miles of Gloucester were in Normandy trying to persuade Count Geoffrey to send us more money and men, and Brien FitzCount’s garrison at Wallingford was too small to relieve us. Thankfully, we were well provisioned and had supplies to see us through the winter.

Stephen seemed prepared for a long siege and began to build wooden billets for his men. He also started to create two large earthen mounds close to our walls, the purpose of which was obvious. Come the following spring, he would build powerful catapults on the top of these hillocks and batter us into submission.